


Demonslayer

by st_jimmy_987



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dragons, Halfing, M/M, adjusting?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 13:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13215150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_jimmy_987/pseuds/st_jimmy_987
Summary: Sequel to 'Crusade'; Castiel adjusts to life among humans.





	Demonslayer

**Author's Note:**

> For the SPN AU Mini Bang 2017

Charlie, small and little and _supposed to be asleep, young lady, what are you doing still up_ , was huddling underneath her blankets and trembling.  
She was terrified; not of the dark, per say, but of what hid in the dark. In the quiet of the night, she could sense everything: the nearly soundless flap of wings, the dark rumbling that generally preceded a roar, the smell of smoke and even the Crimson glint of an eye. She was brave for her Papa, of course, because she loved his stories and she loved hearing about how they met. But Charlie was still little, and little though she may be, she was still old enough to understand what Papa didn't say in his stories.  
Lucifer, big and scary and hateful, was still alive. He had to be; Papa said dragons lived for centuries and centuries, and that it hadn't been so long ago that he met her Father. Charlie wasn't exactly sure how long a century was, but it sounded like a very long time.  
And she was still so tiny, Lucifer could eat her up in a single bite.  
Something creaked from her closet, and that was enough for little Charlie; she bolted, holding her blanket tightly around her neck as her tiny feet stomped towards the door. She slammed into it, hard, and had to stop to yank it open. The pain gave her a moment’s pause, Charlie staring at the door in bewilderment before another creak sent her flying.  
Charlie ran into her Father on the stairs, hair wild and eyes wet with a trembling hand holding onto her blanket. Her Papa clicked his tongue and gently lifted her into the air, carrying her gently down the hall.  
“There's a monster there, Papa.” Charlie whispered tearfully, still clutching her blanket. “I'm scared.”  
“My little Demonslayer,” her Father rumbled playfully, “scared?” She whimpered an affirmative, ducking her head under her blanket as they crossed the threshold to her room. She felt her Papa deposit her gently on the bed, and felt his weight on her mattress. “Charlie.”  
“I'm sorry!” She threw the blanket down and met her Father’s gaze. “I'm…it's scary, Papa. I'm scared.” Her heterochromatic eyes were wide and frightened, tears welling up in the corner of them. She wanted her fathers, both of them, though she knew she had to settle for one.  
“Ok.” Her Father ran his hand through her hair, gently mussing the tangles out of it. Charlie sniffled a little, burying herself in her blankets again. The nest of pillows and blankets combined with her father’s steady presence calmed her just a little. “How about a story?”  
“Ok.” She said quietly.  
“Ok.” He repeated. Charlie watched as her Papa mulled over what he was planning to say, wondering where he would start with this tale. He sent her a searching look, then hunkered down and took her hands. “After quite some time, the war between dragons and humans had come to a standstill. In the meantime…”  
XxX  
Castiel was, he felt, getting used to life amongst humans.  
It had been difficult, at first, and he understood why his father only did it sporadically. It was tiring, having to constantly hide his claws and teeth and tail. He wasn't too worried about his eyes just yet, but Castiel had no qualms about believing they would prove to be just as irritating to hide.  
It was best, he mused, that he had been found by Dean and his brother. He was entirely sure that, had he been found by a different group of Knights, or even if Sam and Dean hadn't been there, he would have been killed on sight. Castiel was sure he'd made a terrifying sight to humans who'd been trained to kill dragons: he'd been all but transformed fully, and completely deranged and dangerous. He still wasn't even sure why he'd been brought back to Dean’s kingdom, other than the fact that Dean had been there to vouch for his character in the first place.  
And it had been strange, living with Dean instead of the cave. Castiel still startled awaken with Anael’s name on his lips, or the answering call to Michael’s roar building up in his throat. He turned corners and expected Gabriel, he glanced and thought he saw Lucifer dart away. He missed his family with a passion burning away in his heart, knocking him lower and lower every time he reminded himself that they'd left him behind.  
And yet, somehow, he felt welcomed into the family that Sam and Dean seemed to have for themselves.  
Sam was fascinating to hold discussions with; the boy was incredibly intelligent, and there were many nights where they stayed up til dawn talking about the differences in their cultures, and their similarities. Dean often called them a couple of nerds, though it was very clear that there wasn't much Dean wouldn't do for his brother.  
Bobby owned the house they lived in, the older man a much more experienced knight than Castiel had ever expected to come face to face with. He had a stern, gruff demeanor that perfectly hid the gentle way he cared for everyone. He’d made Castiel nervous, at first, the dragon not wanting to be left alone with him at all. Now, anytime Castiel needed anything, he was sure to go to Bobby with it.  
Ellen and her daughter Jo were much more welcoming, and Castiel was on his guard around them the most. Ellen was the doctor who'd nursed him back to health, and Jo followed Dean around like she wanted to be a knight as well. Both women made Castiel uncomfortable, and he didn't know how to act around them. The only girl he'd ever been around was his sister, and though the two weren't too different from her, it was strange to be so openly poked and prodded by the two women.  
And yet, Dean was a constant presence by his side, almost as much as Castiel had been to him when he'd been captured. Dean kept the more violent protesters away from Castiel, kept a hand on his arm when he was overwhelmed by Ellen and Jo, explained the real meaning behind the gruff words Bobby used.  
It was difficult, Castiel had thought, but he was slowly growing used to living amongst the humans.  
He loved nature the most; deep in his cave, nestled amongst his family, Castiel had never gone out much. Now, things were different. He loved the sun, the feel of it heating up his hair and warming his face. Castiel found, as a dragon, he tanned and tanned but never burned, never turned bright red in pain. He soaked up the sun’s rays all he could, going out at dawn and sometimes not coming back until night had long fallen.  
He loved the feel of dirt and grass and cobblestone beneath his bare feet, adored the plants and trees and bugs that roamed the earth. Castiel, armed with the knowledge his father passed on, began gathering plants and bugs he knew would be helpful; he'd spend hours picking and catching and digging, placing everything in a little bag Sam managed to procure for him. Castiel brought so many potions ingredients back, Dean was hinting at him opening his own apothecary. The idea made Castiel snort in amusement.  
He may be trusted amongst Dean and his family, but he was still a dragon. Castiel had no doubts that no one outside of the Winchesters would ever buy from him. Still, he gathered and collected, and began brewing his own potions late at night beneath the moon. Even if he could not sell anything, it never hurt to be prepared for any occurrence that might befall his new little brood.  
Yes, it was strange living amongst the human's for Castiel after spending so much of his life hiding away from them. Still, he was slowly, slowly becoming accustomed to it.  
XxX  
“So,” Sam was seated across Castiel in the dining hall, and Castiel ceased his chewing to give him his full attention. Pushing his hair back, Sam leaned forward just a bit and prompted Castiel to do the same. “What was Dean like, living with you guys?”  
“How do you mean?” Castiel murmured.  
“Well.” Sam shifted a bit. “I know he's been different since he came back. He's more…” Frustration flashed, briefly, as he struggled to find the words he was looking for. Castiel watched, fascinated, as his expression settled. “He's calmer, I think. Not as volatile.”  
“You think that's my doing?” Castiel asked. “Or rather, something he learned from us.” Sam shrugged, somewhat apologetically, as he began digging into his food. Castiel did the same, glancing up at Sam curiously.  
“He wasn’t like this before.” Sam admitted quietly. “He was more…adventurous. More willing to fight before listening. Bobby and I had told him time and time again to think with his head and not with his sword.”  
“And that’s what he does now.” Castiel finished for Sam. Sam flashed a smile at him, brief and slightly strained.  
“Yea, that’s what he does now.” Sam repeated. “It’s your doing, Cas, I know it.”  
They’d had Dean for quite some time, Castiel remembered. In human terms, which were so very different from his own, it had been almost seven months they'd had Dean amongst their family. It was another two weeks Dean lost wandering in the forest, trying to find his way back to his brother. Another month before Castiel’s family had taken flight and left behind their youngest to fend for himself. And, now, almost four that Castiel had been living amongst them. That made it about a year since, though it was not a year Castiel felt as fiercely as his friends.  
Oh, how swiftly time flew for these humans.  
“Hey, Sam, Cas.” Dean sat himself on Castiel’s left, interrupting Castiel’s thought process and the conversation he was having with Sam. The younger Winchester didn't even jump at Dean’s sudden appearance, even though the man had appeared behind his brother, and very quietly at that.  
“Dean.” Castiel acknowledged, though Sam just shoved more food into his mouth. Dean’s mouth quirked up quickly in amusement, and he watched his brother eat for a few moments before tucking into his own food.  
Castiel followed suit, resisting the urge to shift his shoulders. Without a doubt, Dean was the leader of their group; between him and Michael, Castiel was hard-pressed to decide who would have the most authority, had Dean had more grounds for it during his stay. Both of them were protective, they fought well and made sure everyone in their brood were cared for and happy. Dean made sure they always had at least a little time for each other, and worked to keep them safe from any threats both physical and verbal.  
And he sat himself right next to Castiel, making the dragon’s heart race even as he told himself to calm down. However intentionally Dean did it, sitting next to Cas when his brother was right there meant that he held him in very high regards indeed. And seating himself so that Castiel was on his right meant that he considered Castiel his second in command. Michael had had Lucifer as his second, which made his betrayal felt that much more fiercely by Michael. And his own father had no second, though Michael was kept close to his left as the next in command.  
But Dean was not a dragon, Castiel reminded himself sternly as he focused once more on his food. It was very likely that Dean didn’t understand the significance of where he sat for his meals, seeing as they never really ate as a brood with Dean; it was always Castiel eating with him, alone.  
His musing was interrupted by a warm weight on his shoulders, and Castiel lifted his eyes from his food to glance at Dean; he’d wrapped his arm around his shoulder carefully, the weight warm and grounding for Castiel. Without thinking too much on it, Castiel leaned into Dean’s side, allowing the cooling warmth of Dean to leech into his side.  
“As I was saying,” Dean continued, his voice slightly strained, “I talked to Bobby about getting a little shop space, and he said we could have the armory space that’s right by his.”  
“Isn’t that Bobby’s storage space?” Sam said curiously.  
“Yea,” Dean continued eating, “but it’s got a little room above it. Me and Cas don’t have much, we could make it work somehow.” Sam and Castiel both stopped eating at that, looking at Dean; he was still eating, intent on pretending a flush wasn’t creeping up his ears.  
“Dean- - -” Sam started, but Dean cut him off with a heavy grunt. Sam fell silent, looking vaguely irritated, but Castiel wasn’t as content to let it be.  
Dean was no dragon, he reminded himself again. He had no idea the implications he was permitting, the messages he was sending to Castiel with these ideas.  
“Dean, do you think it’s wise?” Dean glanced at him, but didn’t shut him down the way he did Sam, and Castiel continued before he could be interrupted as well. “I don’t know that it would be the best idea. The people here might- - -”  
“To hell with them.” Dean said dismissively, and Castiel felt a flare of annoyance. Dean and Sam were treated fairly oddly because of their association with him, and he had no desire to see it worsened just because Dean decided they would live together.  
“No.” Castiel said firmly, putting his hands flat on the table. His fingers itched, a sign of the beginnings of a transformation. “I am not to be responsible for- - -”  
“Look,” Dean said, a strange note underlying his voice. It soothed Castiel’s nerves, in a way, and Castiel felt his will bending to agree with Dean the more he spoke. “I’ve made my decision and that’s final. We’re all cramped in that tiny excuse for a house anyway and this way, we’re not too far from each other. It’ll be fine.”  
Castiel ducked his head, recognizing the tone at last; it was the same one Michael had used when Lucifer was being particularly violent, or Gabriel and Anael particularly petulant. It meant ‘ _do not question me. Do as your leader commands_.’ It was strangely comforting to have that tone used on him again, even if Dean was human. Castiel lowered his head, silently agreeing to what Dean said, and their meal continued.  
XxX  
It took almost another year before Dean and Bobby deemed the space cleared enough for Castiel and Dean to move in. Dean was beside himself with excitement, trying to make Castiel hurry along with him to the area Bobby had vacated.  
It was an open space, one that Dean immediately ignored in favor of pulling Castiel into their sleeping rooms.  
The small room Dean had described a year prior was more roomy than Castiel could have imagined, but it was still small. Castiel felt the space in his bones, in the way his shoulders tightened as if to keep his wings pressed more firmly to him. It was sectioned off, a room and a kitchen and a bathroom with a small common area. Castiel could walk it, from end to end, in about forty steps.  
Dean looked happy to be there, and Castiel felt his lips pull into a smile; as uncomfortably small as it was, it was worth it to see the smile on Dean’s face. He walked the connecting rooms again, wondering where he was going to put the things he collected on his walks. There was barely enough space for Dean’s things, let alone his own.  
“Cas, c’mere.” Dean took his hand and pulled him down; the door was in an alcove, because there were stairs that led down to what Sam had called Bobby’s storage. His things were gone now, something Castiel had noted when they’d entered the building, but he hadn’t noticed the trap door in the far corner of the room. Dean led him here, pulling it up easily and revealing the ladder that went down.  
Castiel peered into its depths, confusion and curiosity mixing in his chest. He glanced at Dean for a moment, then climbed onto the ladder. It was a long way down, and Castiel wasn’t going to satisfy his curiosity from the top of the ladder; instead, as he began descending, he heard Dean climb onto the ladder above him.  
It felt like Castiel climbed for hours. They didn’t talk on the way down, just went lower and lower into the earth. The warmth of the day slowly vanished and the coolness sent a small chill up Castiel’s spine. He wondered at how deep the tunnel went; every time he looked up, the light from the open trap door was blocked by Dean.  
Finally, he put his foot down and met soil instead of wood. Pulling away from the ladder, Castiel waited for Dean to join him. There was a breeze in the dark, and Castiel closed his eyes against the dark to savor it. This deep in the earth, the coolness reminded him of his brooding cave, with Gabriel and Anael and Michael and Lucifer. It was comforting, and he almost missed Dean landing next to him with a soft grunt.  
“This way.” Dean said quietly. He took Castiel’s hand and tugged him down to their left, and Castiel followed quietly. It was dark, and Castiel put his hand on the wall beside him. The dirt was firm and cool beneath his fingers, but didn’t give way. It vanished suddenly, though Dean kept moving downwards, and after a brief moment of space, it returned. Castiel felt his heart stutter in his chest, wondering if what he was beginning to suspect was true; still, he didn’t say anything until the wall vanished and Dean stopped him.  
“What is this, Dean?” Castiel asked softly.  
“Do me a favor.” Dean replied, and Castiel bit the bottom of his lip, debating. “There’s no one down here, Cas, it’s just you and me. Go for it.”  
He didn’t need further encouragement; Castiel folded in on himself and let his control go.  
His shoulders shifted and twisted, broadening and snapping together painfully. His face twisted harshly, elongating and sharpening everything to a point. Castiel felt his wings unfurl from his shoulders, and he arched them as high as he could while his tail snapped outwards. Neither hit the wall, or the ceiling, and Castiel felt his body grow just a bit. He’d gotten bigger, it seemed, since his last transformation, but he hadn’t known; he was so careful not to turn into a dragon in the kingdom, and there had been nowhere else for him to do so safely.  
It felt like stretching after a long day, and Castiel rolled his shoulders out experimentally as he lowered his head. Turning it to one side, he regarded Dean’s awestruck face with one blue-rimmed golden eye. Dean reached out and put his hand on Castiel’s face, right under his eye. Castiel could barely feel the pressure, but he nudged into it and grumbled low in his throat. It echoed in the cavern, and Dean rolled his head.  
“So,” he said loudly, and Castiel flicked his tongue out experimentally. He could smell the dirt, and the coolness of the air. It was a fresh breeze, which meant there was an exit somewhere that wasn’t just the trapdoor. He turned his head in the direction of where the breeze was coming from, flicking out his tongue again.  
It smelled like grass, kind of, and like wildflowers and trees. Castiel was so surprised he pulled into himself again.  
The difference after so long was jarring; he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t even hear. His lungs felt too small for his body, and his legs could only barely support him with the help of Dean. Castiel kept his head turned in the direction he’d been facing, not understanding what it was that had caused him to panic so badly.  
“Cas!” Dean was saying soothingly, trying to get his attention. Castiel took a shuddering breath in too-small lungs, finding his voice.  
“Is this for me?”  
“It was supposed to be similar to the cave?” Dean sounded a bit embarrassed, moving them so that they were sitting in the middle of the cavern. “I figured that underground was as close as I was gonna get, and so me and Bobby finished this over the past couple of months.”  
“Months.” Castiel repeated numbly, his mind slowly whirring. He hadn’t realized that Dean would go so far for him, and Castiel felt overwhelmed. He clung to Dean, his mind already cataloguing how to make this cavern more of a dragons den than an underground space; he felt more at home now than he ever had in his stay with Dean and his family.  
Dean laughed, and Castiel barely heard it; he bumped his forehead against Dean’s cheek, a low rumble in his chest the only sound he could make to voice his contentment.  
XxX  
“What would you say to a child?” Castiel blurted it out of the blue, some months into their stay in their new home, and he immediately wanted to run. Dean looked up slowly from where he was laying on the bed, lifting an eyebrow curiously. Castiel forced himself to hold still, not to let his nerves show through fidgeting.  
“A kid?” Dean asked. “What would we do with a kid, Cas?” Castiel felt one shoulder go up and then down, a habit he'd picked up from Dean in their time together. They’d lived together for so long now, it was unavoidable. Castiel shrugged and ‘hmm’ed and a million of other little human ticks; Dean snapped his teeth and grumbled from his chest, and he kept sitting to Castiel’s left whenever he could. “Castiel, do you want a kid running around here?”  
“It would be interesting,” Castiel said slowly, “to try.” Dean scoffed and settled back into the bed, closing his eyes as he did so.  
“A kid is not something ‘interesting to try’.” He snapped a bit impatiently. “It's a huge responsibility, Cas. Not some whim to have and then toss aside when it bores you.”  
“I know that!” Castiel snapped, a bit irritably. Dean looked up at him again, his brow furrowed, but nerves had given way and Castiel felt his mouth run away from him. “This isn't some whim that I have, Dean. Dragons take something like this seriously. A brood isn't a light thing to consider, especially seeing as any brood of my own wouldn't even be fully dragon!”  
“Cas, I didn’t mean- - -”  
The worries from the past month bubbled and boiled over. Castiel had spent long nights in his cavern, shifting and throwing fire and deciding, deciding. He wanted his own brood, wanted one with Dean more than anything he’d ever wanted before. More than once, Castiel had decided to begin their brood, only to stop just as he ran into Dean.  
Because Dean was human, and Castiel was not blind. He knew Dean was attractive, knew that there were women amid this kingdom that wanted Dean for their own, even with his draconian acquaintance, and he knew he couldn’t take that away from him.  
It was that, combined with his own uncertainty, that kept Castiel quiet. He even didn’t know if Dean wanted to start a brood with him, so that rendered the whole point moot.  
“I don’t even know if we would be able to create a child.” Castiel continued, not realizing Dean was trying to speak. He’d given way to pacing, irritation covering the his insecurity in bringing up such a sensitive topic. “The magic we would need was meant for two dragons, not inter-species. And there would be no guarantee that a child would even be able to survive- - -”  
“Cas, stop.” Dean took Castiel’s face in his hands, stopping both his rant and his pacing. Castiel froze, staring wide-eyed at Dean as the human tried to process his words.  
“Perhaps this isn’t as good as an idea as I’d thought.” Castiel said softly, placing his own hands on Dean’s. He hadn’t thought about any real potential difficulties until this point in time, and suddenly they seemed daunting.  
“It’s a great idea, Cas.” Dean said softly. “If you’re willing to try, Cas, then so am I.”  
XxX  
Castiel sat down in the middle of the room, Dean joining him to do the same. They sat on their knees, a bowl in between them, surrounded by various plants and potions in bottles. Castiel had prepared what he could ahead of time, and Dean watched as he began mixing them together as carefully as he could. Castiel narrated what he was doing as he did it, not wanting Dean to be caught unawares.  
He’d gathered all of the ingredients unconsciously during his solitary walks through the kingdom; Castiel, in all honesty, was unsure as to whether or not Dean would agree to this. There was hope, of course, but having hope did not mean that Dean would want the responsibility of raising a family with him. Castiel heard, in the back of his mind, Sam’s words as he sat across from him at a dinner table, telling him how Dean had changed.  
There was no certainty, but there had been wishes and dreams in abundance; Castiel peered at Dean through his bangs, though Dean was more focused on the mixture between them. It had begun smoking just slightly, and Castiel turned his attention to it again as it slowly turned a deep blue.  
“This will be your last chance to back out, Dean.” Castiel said quietly. He held out his hands, both of them, palms up and open. Dean met his eyes with an inscrutable look, and Castiel felt his heart race just a little in his chest. Swallowing with some difficulty, he said, “once we begin, there will be no way to stop it. If you have any doubts, speak them now.”  
“Cas,” Dean took his hands firmly, without hesitation. He looked determined, more so than Castiel had ever seen him before, and his hands were sure in the dragon’s. “I want this.”  
“As you wish, _ryushaile_.” Castiel murmured. He brought Dean’s hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against the knuckles like Dean had shown him so long ago. Dean let out a huff of breath, but Castiel had already moved their joined hands between them once again to begin the ceremony.  
Castiel put all of his focus on the bowl between them, then. His eyes were glowing crimson he knew, because he was focused on the spell before him. It was more difficult than he'd thought, following the steps to ensure everything would turn out properly; he couldn't help but wonder if different circumstances would have made it easier.  
Still, there was no one he would rather do this with than Dean. Dean seemed to sense his thoughts, because his hand tightened just a little on Castiel’s left, helping him put more energy towards the potion between them.  
This was the hardest part, the one Castiel remembered his father telling them. This was not just the emergence of an egg to be hatched; this was the formation of another living being, one with intelligence and a dangerous amount of strength. Castiel’s mouth formed the words of his ancient language easily even in his human mouth, and despite the fact that he'd hadn't a chance to actually memorize what he was supposed to say.  
Dean’s hand tightened encouragingly around his own, or maybe it was because he too felt the rush of magic that Castiel felt flowing through his being. Wings ripped their way out of his back, his tail thumping on the floor behind him and smoke pouring darkly from his nose. Castiel could barely hear over the flow of magic and his own rumbling voice, his hands trembling over the bowl where they were holding Dean’s.  
The bowl wasn't smoking anymore, or maybe Castiel just didn't notice it because of his own smoke. Still, he could just barely make out how the colors were changing, swirling from blue to purple to red; and, at the bottom of the ceramic, a little clump of something pulsing.  
His hands twitched in Dean’s, and his claws grew before he could stop them. Castiel heard, clearly for the first time since he began his chant, Dean’s sharp intake of breath; he watched in a sort of detached awe as droplets of red splashed into the bowl. He'd cut Dean’s right hand with his nails.  
Distantly, he felt something prick his own right hand; droplets of gold fell into the bowl, his own blood mixing with Dean’s. It created an intricate swirling mixture, and Castiel tracked it with his eyes as his voice got steadily louder. He could feel a physical manifestation of magic now, in the room and in the bowl. The room was chaos, the blankets falling to the floor and books swirling around the air around them.  
But Castiel had eyes on the little form at the bottom of the bowl; it formed before their eyes, faster than Castiel had been expecting.  
It grew, first, floating to the top of the potion and out of the bowl between their hands. Castiel watched as it spun slowly in the air, twisting about as it grew into a little body. It was curled in on itself, but that didn't hide how the muscles formed and the appendages separated just enough to be identified. There was no face to it, just arms and legs and fisted little hands pressed up against the shape of what would be a head. Just as a layer began forming over it, the skin that would hold the muscles and bones in place, it was covered by another layer that was much thicker; a shell, hard and cold and shimmering so beautifully in the glow of the magic around them.  
The spell ended, suddenly, just as the egg finished forming. Castiel dropped Dean’s hands in order to catch the precious egg, pulling it protectively against his chest to prevent it from cracking even the slightest bit. Dean, with the release of his hands, fell back onto the floor, panting heavily. Blood was still oozing from his palm, and Castiel pressed his nose affectionately against the egg before wrapping it carefully against his chest.  
Dean may be one who ran hot amongst his fellow humans, but Castiel was still an actual dragon, and his heat was a thousand times more comforting to the egg than a human’s.  
He knelt in front of Dean, taking a hold of his injured hand and pressing his nose against that as carefully as he could. Dean hissed, his fingers curling around Castiel’s face and leaving a streak of blood.  
“I am sorry, Dean.” He rumbled. The egg twitched against his chest. Dean closed his eyes tiredly. “I did not mean to bring you harm.”  
“It's fine, Cas.” Dean said quietly. He sounded vaguely exhausted, though he reached out and put a slightly shaky hand on the egg nestled safely against Castiel’s chest. Castiel felt a rumble grow in his throat, a pleased one that had Dean flashing a tired smile at him.  
His family was as complete as it was ever going to be.  
XxX  
Her name was Charlie, something Dean had insisted on when the first crack in her ruby-bright egg appeared. Castiel, not having a name of his own, agreed wholeheartedly; when she first appeared, a bright green eye taking the space of a broken shell piece, Castiel felt such a rush of pride that he couldn't move, stunned into cradling the cracking egg against his chest with reverence.  
She had the coordination of a newly hatched dragon, blinking one eye at a time and reaching for the sake of reaching; her hair, already down to her shoulders and matted down by the goo of her egg, was already a dark fire red that reminded Castiel a little too much of Anael. Charlie was already looking around, her nose twitching as her wandering hands caught onto the front of his shirt.  
Castiel lost the will to move, to even breathe; he didn't dare blink, because his world was shifted to Charlie and Charlie alone. He didn't even register that Dean was petting her hair and cooing at her, his wide blue eyes locked on Charlie’s heterochromatic ones.  
“Cas, Cas.” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving Charlie even as he tumbled something curious sounding at Dean. He could hear Dean laugh, and suddenly the human’s hand was in his untamed hair and physically turning his head; still, his eyes never left the newborn dragon.  
“Dean.” He said quietly. His hands trembled, just a little, and he stretched out on the bed. He was careful not to crush her, and he felt Dean lay out next to him while Charlie cooed at them both.  
“I know, Cas.” Dean said back, just as softly. Castiel chanced a glance at the human; his eyes were warm and liquified, staring with an awed intensity at the baby nestled between them while glancing at him with bright eyes. “She's beautiful, Cas.”  
“She is.” Castiel wiped Charlie’s face with one hand, effectively sliding all of the goo out of her face and making her sneeze. Smoke curled out from her nose, just a wisp of it; Dean’s smile flickered just a bit, but Castiel was entranced.  
They had no way of knowing how Charlie was going to grow, or even if she would have any dragon characteristics at all. While unions between humans and dragons were impossibly rare- - -especially during this time of war- - -they weren’t necessarily unheard of. But a baby between the two was something no one had ever tried before, and Castiel hadn’t even been sure it would work.  
Yet here she was, curling herself into Castiel’s neck and yawning widely. Castiel put his hand on her small chest, covering it’s entirety with his palm, and swore to himself that he would never let any harm come to this fragile creature in his protection; he would give his life before any damage came to her.  
XxX  
The years passed as peacefully as they could. Castiel wondered, every so often, what his brood was doing. He hadn’t heard anything of Lucifer, which was better news than he could have hoped for when it came to his angry brother. But the others, he worried. Michael had a tendency to get lost in his mind, though he denied it with passion, and Gabriel got into more trouble than he should. Anael had her hands full, there was no doubt about that in Castiel’s mind, but he had no way of getting in contact with them.  
Instead he focused on his own little brood, his family.  
Charlie grew, too quickly for a dragon and yet too slowly for a human. She ran naked around their home, around the field where Castiel gathered his potion-making herbs, and, on one memorable occasion, across their little town with her fathers chasing after her.  
Sam adored her; it was hard to find any who didn’t. She was bright and happy, with smiles that didn’t have sharp teeth and different colored eyes that could see in the dark better than any human. People stopped Castiel to talk with him now, though it was mostly mothers giving him advice while their children played together.  
At night, Castiel curled around his daughter with Dean by his side, wings unfolded slightly or tail loosely wrapped around them both, keeping them by his side. For all his human posturing, Castiel was still a dragon at heart; he guarded his little brood closely, keeping watch over them as they slept in his home by his side.  
Castiel felt more content than ever before. He had Charlie, and he had Dean by his side. There was a peace that had taken over their little town, and Castiel was happier than he’d ever been.  
XxX  
They’d been attacked. Castiel didn’t know by who, or what happened; he’d been out picking flowers and herbs, leaving four year old Charlie with Jo and Ellen. It had been a quiet day, and Castiel hadn’t known anything was wrong until the acrid smell of smoke reached his nose. Panic laced his veins, and he’d dropped his bag in his haste to return.  
By the time he got back, the entire village was in flames. Castiel dove into the fire, the heat not bothering him in the slightest. He could vaguely hear the screams of the humans, none of them accustomed to the same, and he briefly sent them a quiet prayer; he wanted to save them, he did, but Dean and Charlie were his priority right now. He couldn’t afford to stop, though he wanted to.  
Castiel made it to his house in record time, throwing the door open and stumbling towards the stairs.  
“Charlie!” He yelled, slipping on the stairs and slamming his hands into the railing. It was burning hot, but Castiel used to to hoist himself up anyway. “Dean! Charlie!”  
There wasn’t an answer, and Castiel was torn between relief at not hearing their painful screams and worry that their silence meant they were already dead. Scrambling up the stairs, Castiel had never been happier to have such a small living space; he threw the door open so hard it slammed into the opposite wall, the hinges weakened by the fire.  
“Dean!” He yelled again, “Charlie!” Castiel tore through the house, dodging the falling wooden beams and listening intently for any sign of his brood. The kitchen was engulfed, but there wasn’t any sign they’d been there. The bedroom was equally bare, though the bathroom had the signs of someone breaking the window outwards rather than in. Hope springing in his chest, Castiel raced over to it only to be utterly disappointed when he pushed his face into the cooler air outside and couldn’t see anyone outside.  
The room started giving way beneath his feet, and Castiel found himself falling down to the first floor.  
He slammed down, hard, and for a moment he couldn’t move. A burning pain was searing itself into his ribs, though it wasn’t as hot as it could have been. Castiel groaned, gasping in as deeply as he could, as he rolled over to get away from the sharpness digging into his side. It took him a couple of moments to recognize it was the trap door to his cavern; it was unlocked, though not opened, and he had a sudden memory of bringing Charlie down the ladder, telling her ‘if anything happens, Dean and I will find you down here…’  
Castiel yanked the trapdoor open, grabbing hold of the ladder. It was hot to the touch, but the further he slid down, the cooler it got. He wasn’t even bothering with the rungs, just holding loosely as gravity pulled him down.  
He landed hard, with a grunt and a reverberating pain from his heels to his shoulders, but pushed it aside in favor of tearing down the hallways. Dean had ensured that Castiel had enough space to transform anywhere in the cavern, but Castiel held off as long as he could.  
“Where are you?” Castiel’s voice was panicked and high, tearing through his shelter haphazardly in his search for his daughter. He couldn’t lose her now, not after he’d lost his home and the rest of his family again and _Dean_ , even if it was just for the moment. “Charlie, where are you? Answer me, Charlie, now!”  
He couldn’t hear her anywhere, and for a moment he panicked; their cavern wasn’t so big, only three rooms, and it was completely fire-free. It was contrastingly cold, and Castiel shivered before changing into a dragon. The noises in the cavern sharpened, and Castiel twisted his head to the side as he listened intently.  
There- - -there! He dove into the tunnel again, slamming into the wall as he rounded the corner he’d designated to Charlie.  
And there she was, huddled into the ground, hidden away from sight. She was as transformed as she could be, with enlarged eyes that were streaming tears and bared teeth from her dragon fangs. Castiel dropped his head, pressing his snout against the top of her head. Charlie shot up quickly, little wings flapping on her shoulder blades.  
“Papa!” She said tearfully, throwing herself into Castiel’s neck. He shifted, making sure she was secure on him as he twisted in the little cavern. “What happened? Where’s Father?” Castiel rumbled questioningly, and Charlie sounded a little less tearful when she answered. “No, I’m fine, but I’ve gotten separated from Papa and I don’t know what’s going on!”  
“It’s ok now, Charlie.” Castiel rumbled soothingly. They crouched together, safe from the fires under the town in their little cavern. She kept crying, but Castiel couldn’t fault her; he was still shaking as he ran his hand down her hair. “I’ve got you now, you’re ok. You’re ok.”  
XxX  
Castiel wanted to leave, he did. The town was completely ruined, and no survivors of the fire returned to it. For a couple of weeks, he and Charlie stayed in the cavern Dean created, Castiel staying by his daughter’s side and Charlie too fragile to head into the burned town.  
Eventually, though, Castiel instructed his daughter to stand at the base of the ladder and climbed upwards himself.  
The town was skeletal and unsalvageable on his own. Castiel easily knocked aside the foundation that made up the house he shared with Dean, stepping through the ash-covered town. He buried the skeletons he found, so that Charlie wouldn’t have to see them, and collected what little he could salvage from their homes.  
Slowly, slowly, he rebuilt their home above ground. Charlie was a dragon, yes, but she was also partly human and she couldn’t thrive underground the way Castiel did. And the home would hopefully be a beacon to Dean, that they were together and well and awaiting his return.  
“Papa, tell me a story.” Charlie said, snuggling into the nest he made for her, and Castiel curled around her and thought carefully about what he would tell her.  
He told her much, or he tried. Charlie was still young, too little to know too much about what had happened, but Castiel couldn’t give her nothing. He told her stories of knights and princesses, of dragons and little elves. She went through her stages as he rebuilt first their home, then the town.  
First were the princesses, as he built their home high and created an upstairs nest. Then Charlie wanted Knights as he build the baker’s shop and the floral shop, and then she wanted stories about elves and magic as he rebuilt homes as best he could. Castiel humored her as best as he could, but between the two of them, Dean had always been the superior story teller.  
He missed Dean with a constant ache, which led to him telling the story of how they met. A crusade, he’d called it, and Charlie loved the story more than anything else.  
XxX  
Castiel had never known what to expect from his daughter, not really. She was a wonderful mixture of him and Dean, and Castiel had never known what new thing she would bring to light. She couldn’t breathe fire or transform fully into a dragon, her human blood too strong and prominent to do so; but she could grow fangs and wings, and she could fly the rooftops of their new town.  
Castiel took her flying through the forest, always conscious of where she was and how tired she was. They had picnics and Castiel taught her what he knew, about food and magic, and Charlie showed him what Ellen had been teaching her before they were attacked.  
Charlie was still partly human, though, and she gained abilities that reflected it. Her vision didn’t sharpen as well as Castiel’s did, but she had a tendency to physically run a lot faster than he could, and she was able to sense some things that he couldn’t. To say that she’d vanished one night as he’d gone to check on her was not something he’d thought would happen.  
To say that he panicked would be something of an understatement.  
Castiel tore through his rebuilt home in a terror, yelling for Charlie and not getting an answer. He flew just over their ghost village, scenting the air in an attempt to find her. As dawn broke over the horizon, Castiel headed blearily into his home and sat against the wall, exhausted and alone until there was a weight against his side.  
“Morning, Papa!” Charlie said sunnily, and Castiel wrapped his arms around her tightly without thinking. She was chartering away, and Castiel let it was over him without really taking in what she was saying. She giggled, climbing into his lap and forcing him to pay attention. “I saw Papa and Uncle Sam, they’re camping! Can we go camping too?”  
“What do you mean they’re camping?” Castiel pulled her away, framing her face with his hands. Charlie’s eyes widened on her own, but Castiel almost couldn’t focus. “Charlie, what do you mean you saw Sam and Dean? Where are they?”  
“I don’t know.” Charlie whined a bit. “They’re camping! But I don’t recognize the forest. I don’t know where they are. But I saw them, Father, I swear.”  
“I believe you, Charlie.” Castiel hugged her again, his eyes scanning the forest on the outskirts of their home. The trees were tall and familiar, and Castiel felt his own brow furrow.   
If Dean and Sam weren’t nearby, then where were they?  
XxX  
“Where are we at, Papa?” Charlie asked quietly, still clinging to her father. He hummed quietly, pressing a kiss to her hair as he glanced out the window in her room.  
“It’s…kind of like a camp.” He said softly, after a long moment. “Sam and I, we’re waiting on you and your father to come along and join us.”  
“Why can’t you come back with me?” Charlie asked. “Papa misses you, and I miss you too. You can bring back Ellen and Bobby and even Jo!”  
“Well,” her father hesitated, and Charlie felt her mouth twist just a little in response.

"You always say that!” She said loudly. Immediately, she covered her mouth and glanced out the window as well; she was too loud, and there was a possibility Lucifer had heard her from her room. There was a screeching noise from outside, loud and piercing, and Charlie huddled into her father again. “Harpies!”

“Ok, ok.” Her father soothed, rubbing her arms. “They’re just harpies. What do we say to harpies?”

“That…that…” Charlie shivered as they screeched again. “That I’ll skin them alive!” Her shivering stopped, and she looked a bit more determined than before. Her father laughed, as Charlie glowered at the noises. “And I’m gonna pay the devil his due, cause he should be scared of me! I’m the biggest, scariest creature in the world!”

"That’s my girl!” He said proudly, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Charlie beamed up at him, snuggling into him as sleep began to overtake her.

“Papa, when are you coming home?” She asked sleepily, her eyes closing. Her father kissed her forehead, hiding the sad furrow of his brow as he did so. Charlie hummed softly, then fell asleep. Her father held her close, tightening his grip as he felt her fading away.

“I’m always home with you.” He whispered against her forehead. Charlie shifted, just a bit, but he couldn’t feel it; his arms held onto nothing, and when Charlie awoke the next morning, she was home again with her Father.


End file.
